Carpathian 21 - Dark Peril

spreading from the inside out. The vampire burst into flame and rolled, his grotesque mouth stretched thin over long, stained fangs. He snapped at her, clawing the earth, trying to drag himself across the vegetation to reach her. The smoke rose, a blackish red, strange shapes with open mouths appearing and then subsiding.

    Solange backed away from the undead as the remaining flames burst into a bright fireball and ashes rained down.

    Get out of there, Dominic hissed. Run.

    She sprinted away from the evidence of a burned vampire. There was no wind below the canopy, but thunder rumbled in the distance and the heavy layer of mist that had developed began to turn to a steady drizzle. That might help remove her scent, but she doubted it. Henric would be coming after her.

    She leapt over a rotting log, sprinting for the small cache of weapons she’d hidden a hundred yards ahead in the huge sprawling tangle of roots. Her cat suddenly leapt, slamming hard against her bones, frantic to get out. Instinctively Solange changed directions. Behind her she heard a high-pitched yell.

    “Stop, woman!” Henric sent the order, pushing hard at her brain.

    Solange stopped abruptly and turned to face him, her movements uncoordinated, like a jerky puppet. She blinked at him, shaking her head, fear stamped into her expression.

    Henric smirked, now that he had her under his control. He wanted her terror, wanted the adrenaline flowing, lacing the blood. The high he got was better than sex to him. He crooked his little finger at her.

    Solange didn’t feel the pressure in her brain. She shook her head violently and let out a little squeak. What did most women do when they were terrified? When she was terrified—and she was fairly scared—her mind raced with every weapon possible she had at her disposal. Long ago, she’d learned that her intellect and her ability to stay calm were her two most powerful weapons. In this situation, she was certain a gun, knife and definitely her crossbow would be more helpful.

    She made a move as if to run, but her feet refused to move. “What do you want?”

    “Are you having trouble running?” Henric taunted. Deliberately he allowed his civilized mask to slip, showing her the skin stretched taut over his skull, his bloodred, glowing eyes and his dark, bloodstained teeth revealed by a parody of a smile.

    “Help!” Solange twisted and turned frantically. “Someone please help.”

    “No one is coming to help you.” Henric took a step toward her and watched as tears swam in her eyes. “No one is going to come. No one can save you.”

    “What are you?” Deliberately she recoiled, wringing her hands together.

    Henric shuffled a few steps closer, drawing out her fear, feeding on it. He looked down at his hand. His fingernails lengthened into long, razor-sharp talons. Smiling, he looked back up at her.

    Solange held her crossbow and now she was smiling. Now, Dominic. “Then I guess I’d better save myself,”
    she said aloud as she shot the arrow.

    Henric tried to dissolve, but she was close, almost too close. The arrow shot him through the heart and nearly pushed out the back when it ignited. Henric, half substance and half mist, shrieked and howled. He spat curses at her as he tried to dislodge the arrow burning white-hot from his back to his heart. The arrow had gone through the center of the withered heart, impaling the organ and holding it to form.

    Solange calmly fit another arrow into her crossbow and shot him a second time, watching with cool detachment as he burned to ash. She took a breath and let it out.

    They’re dead, Dominic. Where do you want me?

    No injuries? Not even a scratch from running through the forest?

    She heard the concern in his voice and carefully inspected her body to ensure she had no cuts or scratches.
    I’m good.

    Make your way back to your original position. I will get things going here. Everything is in place. When all hell breaks loose, these are the leaders I want you to try to take out.

    Solange studied the images in his mind. She recognized Giles and his lesser vampires. Dominic had paid attention to four others. One looked older, unusual for a vampire to make that choice, a distinguished, silverhaired man wearing, of all things, a business suit.

    He goes by the name Carlo. He has been living in Sicily so long he thinks he is part of the Mob.

    She could see that. He certainly looked intimidating. The second man was slender with the cold,